


All Quiet On The Western Front

by httpstiles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - World War I, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Character Death, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpstiles/pseuds/httpstiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shot rings through the air. One of the guys falls. By the size, he can tell it's an older guy. Someone shouts a name. He drops his journal in the mud and runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Quiet On The Western Front

**Author's Note:**

> Basically just a small ficlet based off the book All Quiet On The Western Front.

**All Quiet On the Western Front**

 

     Stiles writes in his journal. He writes to his friend in the hospital, Scott, who recently lost a leg. Their friendship hasn't been the same since the bombing, but he doesn't know what Scott is going through, so he's okay for now. Scott will heal on his own time.

 

 

     There haven't been many attacks, him and Isaac are walking back to camp when the shooting starts. Him and Isaac manage to make it to cover, but not before Isaac's shin is shot. The shooting ends and they try to get him up, but Isaac can't seem to move his leg without much pain. Stiles tosses Isaac over his shoulder and continues the journey back like that.

     They talk some, but very little because he's concentrated. It's a half-hour walk to the medic station, but with Isaac's weight, it could be longer.

     For a few of the minutes, Stiles thinks to himself. He knows that Isaac will survive; he's seen people with worse survive. There's a belt pulled taut around his leg so he won't have the time to bleed out. He's seen people, with both legs missing, drag themselves back to the trenches. He's stabbed a man in self-defense against a man from the other side and he'd been in the shell hole for hours with him in no man's land. He'd not even bled out yet when he left him. Stiles is confident that Isaac will be okay.

     "Well son, you just about wasted your time. He's dead." Stiles eyes widen and his mouth gapes open.

     "No," he mutters. "I was just talking to him a few minutes ago." He takes a few strides to his friend's side and presses his ear to Isaac's chest. There's no rise or fall, there's no heart beat. "No." It just can't be. "No, no, no." He continues to mutter to himself in denial and shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes.

     When he blinks, they travel down his face collecting dirt that covers it, and it leaves a dark spot on the sheet below. His hand, covered with layers of dried mud, reaches for Isaac's head. He shakily moves the curly hair out of his face and runs his hands through his hair. It's soft to the touch and- oh god. His hand pulls away from the damp spot and it comes back red. That night, Stiles doesn't want to eat, but when he does, he remembers the cries of his passed friends as they died.

 

     Stiles writes in his journal. No one is attacking, it's mostly just keeping watch for the moment. The people the army keeps enlisting are getting younger and younger. He, himself, is only 19. The new men are no longer men, they're boys still. Some are 15, the youngest he's seen being 14. All are aligned the wall of the trench and guns are aimed and ready. Stiles walks by each one, checking that they're still awake, ready for anything.

      _October 11th, 1918_

_All quiet on the western front. The other side has stopped attacking. There's a bird chirping and I still feel like there's h-_

     A shot rings through the air. One of the guys falls. By the size, he can tell it's an older guy. Someone shouts a name. He drops his journal in the mud and runs.

     Derek. When he gets to him, he's already half gone. Derek's eyes stare straight up at the dull-grey sky and the green seems to have disappeared. The bullet wound in his upper left shoulder seems too close to his major artery. He's going to bleed out an die. Stiles holds him, his last comrade. The pain he feels is worse than when his arm had been injured, dislocated and broken. The pain he feels is worse than when he's taken his 16-day leave and cried upon entering his home.

     No. His house. Home had become serving his country beside his friends. Watching each other's backs. The last thing he'd ever wanted for him or his men, was the burden of dying a slow death. But he'll be here with him, letting him know that he's not alone. Derek has Stiles. Stiles will watch over him until the second he's gone, and both will hold on to this moment forever. And whether there is a heaven or hell, and even if they don't end up in the same place, he knows they'll meet again someday.


End file.
